Beginnings

Hello lovely human beings,

The art of being idle has been extended here: http://spewingstories.wordpress.com/

Please visit, leave your footprints and gimme some lovin'. You can take back home some recipes!

I will be writing here as well, but of course. :)

Oh Dear God.

Sell your soul for a few measly thousands.
Stop traffic, flailing your arms vaguely for some kind of an answer.
What kind of world are you - for the lost & meandering, do you have a place?
When we sing, we sync, when there's a tussle, why can't we sleep?
Slip & fall. Let it rain when it's not supposed to.

Organised chaos

Oddballs gather. Oddballs stay up late in the dim yellow light, chewing fast, smoking slow. Oddballs make sweet love, with occasional oddball laughter. Oddballs look at each other and wonder about hardships, failures and ideal situations. Sometimes, oddballs giggle and make strange faces. Noses loop, lips twitch, an errant strand of hair flies. Oddballs tire. They sleep like two cats in a tight embrace. 

Kabadi on rooftop

There will always be longing. 
For the perfect stomach. The perfect regimen. The immaculate house. Or, for a nuanced conversation, spiced correctly. A dash of salt for humour. Some whole garam masala to balance it out. 
And then, some fools long for more nostalgia. One more hit. Never get enough. Vision blurs, hands shake, the curry burns, neglected. 
Sometimes, a place defines you. Don't let it.  

***

Ruminate

***

Walk, arrange assumptions in a neat triangle, point at a stranger's facial expression and laugh.